“She remembered who she was. And the game changed.” — Lalah Delia
Dear Fellow Warrior,
Sometimes the journey back to yourself is the most powerful revolution of all. This is a love letter to the parts of myself I never lost… only rediscovered, in the most incredible way.
I remembered who I was. And while I will miss aspects of the person I was before, I am falling in love with the reminder of something bigger than me… something that feels more real than it has ever…something that was always a big part of me…
******
I love letting the wind play with my hair.
I love it when the sun kisses my neck.
I love it when my skin deepens in color, darker than I already am.
I love wearing my jumke anywhere, hearing them jingle close to my ears.
But there is a love more powerful than all of that.
A love that envelops the heart. A love that reminds you of who you are… of your purpose… of your mission… and who you’ve always been.
And when you start to connect the dots, nothing else seems to matter.
So… I might look a little different now…
Yes, it happened… I have reclaimed the Crown...after 21 years.
But perhaps this was always me.
Allahu Alem. God knows best.
Everyone’s journey is different, unique, and special.
Please never compare it with others. Never impose it on others.
May Allah (swt) forgive me for needing time to understand.
May He protect us all. Keep us close, connected, and empowered.
I know now, after a few weeks from my return from the heart of the Revolution, that this is and always was the true Warrior KQueen.
This was always her Revolution.
And her Surrender… at the same time.
Her Crown.
…And her Sword.
Accepting the Next Challenge: Knowing What I’m Up Against
I have no doubt there will be many tests and challenges, some of which I have already been facing. In thinking about these reflections on identity, upon return from my travels, I also decided to ground myself in the realities of what visibly Muslim women face. I have worn the hijab temporarily in some occasions, but it was never a permanent decision – I always knew I would remove it.
Especially in the professional world…considering my current transition, and the challenges I have already faced, I think it is important to be prepared. The challenges pushed me to study diversity, equity, inclusion, and belonging, especially in Academia.
It’s been nearly 21 years since I took off my hijab… assuming, at the time, that it simply wasn’t “me.” In 2017, I wrote an essay here on my blog called, To Hijab or not to Hijab?: A “Marginal” Perspective from One Muslim American Woman.
To this day, that piece remains one of the most engaged blog pieces I had, both here, and on Facebook, where I shared it. There is a technical problem with the “likes,” so all the engagement has been removed from my blog posts. But the last I checked I remember it was about 78 or so likes, which was a lot for a blog post on WordPress, specifically for me. I really appreciated the engagement, support, and connection I received overall from that post.
In that 2017 hijab essay, I write how August 11, 2001 to August 11, 2004 would be the years on the tombstone for my hijab. I thought that was a cute comment. I can now say that March 23, when I arrived in Madinah, because I did not remove it afterwards. Or perhaps April 2nd, when I sat on the plane, not wanting to return to America after such a beautiful experience in a Muslim country, taking in the blessings and feeling closer to the Prophet (pbuh) and Allah (swt).
As the essay notes, over the years, I’ve experimented and reflected. But as open as I am in many ways, I don’t think anyone in my life knew I had been contemplating a return to it. This was something I guarded in my heart until I was absolutely sure. A certainty that I thought may come in a few years. Not after an unexpected trip to the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia during the last 10 days of Ramadan.
So, this wasn’t an overnight decision. Umrah became the final confirmation. A confirmation that came sooner than I thought it would, but perhaps at the right time, nonetheless.
There may have been some hints, like that Medium article I wrote called “The Crown” last year, or the short YouTube video, but this has always been a deeply personal decision.
On the second week back from the Pilgrimage, I decided to take some time to read a few studies that have been conducted on gendered Islamophobia in the workplace and academia in America.
After all these years of navigating the job market, I needed to fully understand what I’m up against. Reading the data added more clarity to what I’ve long experienced, both with and without the veil.
One exploratory meta-analysis on employment discrimination (Ahmed and Gorey, 2020), based on studies from the U.S. and Germany between 2010–2020, found that Muslim women who wear hijab are 40% less likely to be hired or retained in employment compared to Muslim women who do not veil. Forty percent. SubhanAllah.
And yet, studies like the 2011 Gallup Poll and ISPU’s 2017 American Muslim Poll show that American Muslim women are among the most highly educated women in the U.S., even surpassing Muslim men in educational attainment.
Still, visibly Muslim women – the ones who wear the hijab – continue to face implicit bias, discrimination, stereotypes, and more. Especially in secular liberal institutions, hijab is sometimes read as a symbol of conservatism or rigidity.
There’s an unspoken assumption that our research might be “biased” because of our identity.
I have more to say about this. Another time, inshallah. I also want to be include this analysis in my articles connected to DEI, some still in progress, so I will be sure to add this research in there.
I just have no doubt this plays into hiring decisions.
Sometimes silently. Sometimes blatantly.
The current political climate doesn’t help either.
It gives institutions the license to quietly ignore anti-discrimination laws, while emboldening systemic prejudice.
I’ve often had a habit – sometimes intentional, sometimes not – of adding more challenges to my path. But as I’ve said before, knowing all the barriers I already face as a woman of color and as a Palestine advocate navigating academia…
Challenge Accepted.
And I’ll say this loud and clear:
My research. My scholarship. My intellectual merit.
Yeah… It is no less credible or worthy if I say “Free Palestine” or “Allahu Akbar” while wearing a garment over my head.
May Allah give me, and all my sisters, and others from marginalized communities, the strength to stay resilient through this difficult time.
The Post-Pilgrimage “Homecoming”
With all the reflections I had been processing on Umrah and the Hijab the past few weeks, I decided I wanted to end the month of April with giving myself a little self-empowerment, encouragement and celebration. This weekend, I decided to put together a modest Post-Pilgrimage Hijab “homecoming” coronation and doctoral hooding ceremony.
As I stated earlier, it has been almost 21 years since I decided to take my hijab off, August 2004.
I do consider it a new beginning for me, a new chapter crowned in faith and knowledge, as it should be, post-Pilgrimage, a moment of renewal and rebirth, especially as it connected to Ramadan.
I recently told someone that it wasn’t a big deal, my return to Hijab. I felt mad at myself for shrinking, like I do often with others. I always emphasize how important it is to never dim your light for others, especially as a woman, and especially if you think it would make them more comfortable.
It is a big deal. Especially if the change is deeply connected to one’s Inward Revolution. And I know from experience that it is a big change in lifestyle and focus in a lot of ways. After two decades, core young adult years, yeah it’s a big change.
I recently saw a lecture from Dr. Sheikh Omar Suleiman, a video from about 12 years ago, where he was answering a question regarding hijab. In the video, he shared that the decision to wear the head cover is a celebratory moment for every Muslimah. I agree.
He also talked about hijab parties given to sisters. I never actually heard of that, but if that happens, I am so happy, especially for the younger sisters.
As you may know, especially on social media, and in this blog here, I have always talked about celebrating your moments, for yourself. I tried to do that for the moments that matter to me. Like my doctoral hooding ceremony, the anniversaries, and the school graduation (when I couldn’t celebrate with community and family).
So, this weekend I gave myself a “homecoming” coronation.
The song that is playing in that video, was actually the “homecoming” song, my Senior Year of High School in 2001. The song eventually became connected to 9/11. As I noted in the essay above, I started wearing hijab for the first time just a month before 9/11, before my Senior Year in High School.
I connected to the song especially with the internal jihad and then the sudden responsibility that fell on our shoulders, post-9/11, as Muslims, which would be reflected in all of our leadership activities, to spread the truth of Islam, that it was a religion of peace, human rights, and justice.
But I couldn’t express that connection to the song, not only because I felt so marginalized as a Muslim Hijabi, even as there was an article written about me in the North Star, the school newspaper (connected to my work with Amnesty International and 9/11).
But I also could not express the resonance because, according to “high school popularity contests,” I just wasn’t “cool” or special enough to embrace it… An issue undoubtedly connected to the ongoing challenge of Belonging, diversity, equity, and inclusion, for so many of us, especially those who have been ostracized and bullied.
I reclaim my space now, my belonging, as I reclaim my Crown.
I will not allow my Islam, nor my Education to be taken from me by any type of force (again). Especially now, as I continue to establish my “Belonging” in academic spaces in my role as a Scholar and Educator.
I’ve been thinking a lot about how things would have been different if I kept it on. It is a danger zone that I should tread carefully.
It is interesting, as I continue reflecting on this, what went wrong before, and as we move into Mental Health Awareness Month, it was partly my depression back in college that led me to remove my hijab (initially just temporarily), and now, it is also my prolonged depression and isolation that brought me back to Islam and Hijab.
Fascinating how that works. I’ll reflect on that more in Mental Health Awareness month.
I just know, for the moment, that I wanted to see how I looked with that cap and that hood….Sigh… as a “Hoodie” (hijabi)… something my dad used to call me back in college.
It’s interesting because the green and gold were the school colors of both my high school and my University where I achieved my doctorate.
We all have our journeys. Tell your stories…
This is mine…
I have no doubt that the hate, evil eye, and “invisibility” I have experienced will continue, but I know that I have an incredible story, and I have to honor it for myself. As I know from experience that most people do not welcome these types of spiritual reawakenings, especially for people who are authentic and different already in so many ways. It becomes especially heartbreaking and disheartening when that lack of support is evident from Muslims, the very community you aspire to take refuge in….
It’s Never too Late: You are Right on Time
This felt like a significant moment, as I saw the many different layers of symbolism of this journey unfold. I was reminded that our Prophet (pbuh) achieved Prophethood at the age of 40. It was a helpful reminder as I had been lamenting all the time lost for many goals, in the past year, since turning 40 in July. I remember trying to empower myself at that time, and sharing how I never thought I’d make it 40. And I made it. That itself was an accomplishment for me. Perhaps this reflection can be expanded in the next blog post for Mental Health Awareness month. But I had no clue that the journey will unfold in this direction.
In any case, I’ve been thinking more and more about my early aspirations in Islamic scholarship. The Ummah needs more female Muslim scholars. Those who carry both the scholarship of the Deen and the scholarship of the Dunya.
Pursuing Islamic scholarship over the next decade is not only feasible but also a natural extension of my ongoing quest for knowledge and service.
It was always part of my goals since I was very young. I went back to MY Autobiography Project (1999) that always reminds me of that. I have two pages that outline 50 goals, 8-9 of them are connected to Islam, and at the top of the list, the first two goals are:
- Become a religious and practicing Muslim (Still working on it!)
- Travel to Mecca where the Kaaba (house of God) is, and do the pilgrimage that all Muslims are supposed to do in their lifetime. (DONE! YAY!)
Number 19 on that list is: “Put on the hyjab (a scarf that all women are required wear in Islam over their head as an every day routine.) – WOW! (I still get shocked that I had that calling from such a young age, without any real influence or role models at that time. I asked my mother about it when I was a little younger than this too).
Number 20 is “Become a good role model in Islam.”
Number 33 is “Be very knowledgeable in Islam.”
Number 45 is “Teach non-Muslims about Islam.”
And so on…
This was a project I put together for my 9th grade English class in High School. I was 14 years old. I’ll write a separate blog post about this. But I wanted to share this in this piece because I had been referring to this project ever since I graduated with my doctorate almost 4 years ago. And when I came back from Makkah, I went to that project again, and was again enlightened, reminded, and deeply surprised on the serendipitous moment I was experiencing… how much I always aspired to be such a devout Muslim, and even how much my social justice and human rights passions were connected to my faith at a very young age.
It is never too late to follow the heart. It is never too late to be born again.
I have been saying this a lot the past four years… it’s never too late to rewrite your story, change your stars, to start over again.
Dr. Omar Suleiman recently reminded us of that Hadith:
“Whoever leaves something for Allah, Allah will give them something better than that which they left.”
SubhanAllah. Inshallah.
I hope to share more comprehensive essay on my journey with Hijab in the very near future, including why I initially put it on, why I took it off, and why I decided to return to wearing it again, as well as a few thoughts about how my life may have been different if I remained steadfast (an area I must tread carefully).
I know this story will be helpful to other sisters, and I hope it would be for the younger ones. I hope that other sisters can lean on me, as I just want you to know that I am here for you, no matter where you are with your faith, no matter how you feel about the hijab, without any judgment whatsoever. I feel those who have experienced the path that I have are really at the best position to support others. So I pray and hope that sisters could see that in me.
I wanted these initial thoughts, which I shared on social media, to be here, in its rightful place, in the Chronicles of the Warrior KQueen. It is also easier to reference when I share that piece. I am exploring other avenues to publish that.
But for now, I just want to say: I know many women carry these stories silently.
I don’t share this for attention.
I share with intention.
Because our stories deserve to be seen and heard.
Especially those that embody return, reflection, and resilience.
Covered or uncovered.
This is what the Chronicles of the Warrior KQueen has always been about, has always promulgated… the importance of sharing our stories…
Because this is how we reclaim space in a world that often erases women like us.
And for those who don’t give me the evil eye when I share this transformation, I sincerely thank you. I know the evil eye will always be present in my life for reasons I’ve come to understand.
But I appreciate the open hearts, the open minds, and those who understand how vulnerable these evolutionary moments can be, especially for women.
I’ll reflect more deeply on this in future essays, inshallah.
“The world may not recognize you when you return to yourself.
But Allah always does.” — Anonymous
This above photo was of me after my first prayer at the airport in Madinah on March 23.
I was already yelled at in the female prayer room for not wearing socks. Yikes, lol.
But I dressed in all black, hijabi ninja mode, ready for the mission. The look on my brother’s face when I started waving from afar and he couldn’t recognize me…Priceless. Unforgettable!
Thank you for reading this post, giving my voice a chance, and being with me in this challenging journey of for my Inward Revolution. I’ll leave it here for now. Even as the thoughts remain incomplete. I hope to share more insights and reflections in the coming weeks and months.
Solidarity, Warm Salaams, Peace, and Blessings,
Your Sister, Dr. Elsa, The Warrior KQueen
“She wasn’t looking for a Knight. She was looking for a Sword.” – Atticus
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